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The Sound of the Truth
Chapter 4 of Fuega Fuega. The title refers to "Truth No. 2" by the Dixie Chicks. You don't like the sound of the truth Coming from my mouth You say that I lack the proof Well baby that might be so Prologue Cats can change over the course of their lives. And I don’t mean just physically, because even beetle larvae could tell the difference between a kitten and an adult cat. Cats could be born as the kindest kitten and die with the meanest heart of any feline ever to walk in daylight. But cats can also change their behavior in subtler forms. My friends who have known me since before I was a warrior know that I am living proof of this. There are some cats I have known that have also changed for good, including, in some ways, me. Other cats, unfortunately, have changed for bad, including, in other ways, me. And then there are some cats that never change at all, and often those are the worse cases. Just a Stop My paws were aching by the time the sun sank and we came to a large Twoleg field with a few trees and pathways in it called a park. It felt odd to walk on this green stuff called grass; it felt nice and soft compared to the hard stones of the big Twolegplace. I had the urge to roll around in it, but I figured that wouldn’t be appropriate to do around Hurricane and Peach. Speaking of Peach, she had carried Vulture for a while because of his injured ears. I wondered if she would do the same for me. Hurricane led us to something she called a bench, a wooden structure that Twolegs used to sit on. Right now, though, there were no Twolegs on it, or in any of the park, for that matter. “There’s an old gopher den under there,” she told us. “Long ago the Twolegs killed them off, and they’ll do the same to any animals that live in there for too long, but for just spending the night, I think we’ll be fine.” There wasn’t much room in the den. Some of the old tunnels had caved in, leaving room for about two full-grown cats to fit in comfortably. Being two full-grown cats and two nearly-four-moon-old kittens, we managed to squeeze in and lie down. “Oh, sorry,” I apologized as I realized I was between Hurricane’s front legs. “I’ll give you some space.” I quickly backed up, bracing myself for the older she-cat to claw me. Instead she shrugged. “I’ve had to stay here with plenty of cats traveling to Skull’s group. You’re not the worst denmate, by far.” I nodded slowly, grateful that Hurricane wasn’t as strict as Peach. Until then, I thought that all other cats hated being touched like that. It took me a while to fall asleep, and when I did, I had the same familiar dream. For most of it, not much changed; I felt the same amount of pain, and I saw the eyes that switched from Vulture’s to Peach’s. Then I saw two other sets of eyes, though somehow I knew they weren’t the ones of my attacker. They were other cats, watching us. One set of eyes was small, watery blue, and fearful. The other was bigger, darker, and sharp, like the water on a lake—though I didn’t know about lakes yet—that had frozen. I realized that these two pairs of eyes belonged to Ella and Hurricane. For a brief moment before I woke up, I saw colorless eyes that I knew belonged to another cat I was destined to meet: Skull. I wished even more that night for a dream where I would meet the shimmering cats that Ella had described. Or at least that Ella would talk to me in my dreams. The Empire Revealed I was disappointed to see more Twoleg nests the next day. But it felt reassuring that they didn’t reach all the way up to the sky, and that not as many Twolegs and their monsters crowded around them. Still, Hurricane said to be cautious when going around Twolegplace in broad daylight. In Skull’s group, there were only a few cats allowed to go out of the main base at a time to search for food, and the most subordinate cats went out in the daytime. The middle-class cats went out in the dead of night, and only the highest-ranking cats, including Skull himself, left the base at dawn and dusk, where there would be Twolegs to beg food from but shadows to hide in if necessary. Of course, Skull could go out any time he pleased, but he preferred to do it around sunset, either by himself or with a few she-cats, depending on his mood. Then the base was left in the paws of the guard scouts, a group of strong fighting cats, most of which were Skull’s kits. The scout part was in there because, at any given time, between one to five of the guard scouts would be outside the territory, searching for other cats to recruit and possibly better places to live. Obviously, Hurricane had this job at the moment, and so did one of her brothers, a dark gray tabby named Snap. Our guide told us all of this as we neared Skull’s base camp. From the way she described it, I was beginning to feel some hope in my chest. The group was filled with more than twenty cats, all of them strong fighters and good hunters. Skull and his guard scouts had the group well organized, and there had never been any major rebellions. I was a little nervous about living with so many cats at a time, but if they were all strict-but-welcoming like Hurricane, I was sure I would be fine. Just as Hurricane had told us, we got to a large alley at the edge of Twolegplace around sunhigh. The walls of the alley were lined with large bins that Twolegs threw their trash in. But I noticed that more than trash lived in those containers. Dark shapes climbed out of them and jumped to the ground, trotting forward to us. I felt my hackles rise; I wasn’t used to seeing so many cats at a time. I glanced toward Vulture, and felt a little relieved to see that he looked just as anxious as I was. Peach and Hurricane, however, didn’t even flinch as the largest cat pushed through the group. He would have had pure white fur if he didn’t live in a rubbish container. His pelt looked like it hadn’t been groomed in moons; it was dirty and matted and tangled. And, on the top of his head, it was even shaved. Even today I’m not sure exactly how it happened, but Skull got his name from his shaved head. It wasn’t just his fur that was shaved, though; the top of his ears looked liked they had been sliced clean off, leaving only two stumps. His eyes were the strangest of all, black and empty looking. But apparently those eyes could still see, because he looked over Vulture, Peach, and me like he was choosing the juiciest piece of meat. I felt terrified; was he going to eat me up right then and there? I needn’t have worried. His eyes stopped on Peach and narrowed. “You look familiar,” he remarked in a high-pitched cool voice. “As do you,” Peach mewed just as coldly. “Except for the shaved head and ears thing. Though you had those eyes.” Skull let out a shrill yowl of laughter that made my fur stand up even more. “My eyes have always been this way. Yes, I remember you. Peach, is it? You were here before I ruled my empire.” “Forgive me for saying this, oh Emperor Skull.” My mother’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “But a group of twenty-some cats isn’t exactly an empire.” I looked back at the other rogues and saw their tails twitch nervously. Hurricane stepped forward. “Don’t mind her, Father. She’s been living in the large Twolegplace by herself for some time now. You know what that does to a cat.” “Yes, I know, my daughter,” growled Skull. “But I can do even worse things to a cat that doesn’t listen.” “Yes, Father,” she murmured, bowing her head. The leader of the rogues smirked. “As one of my eldest kits, I expect you to do better, Hurricane. However, you have done well; never before have you brought me three cats in one journey.” “Thank you, Father,” Hurricane meowed, raising her head proudly. “Peach is a good fighter, and she is training her kits to be the same.” Skull’s dark gaze bore into me and my brother. “These are not my kits, or are they?” “No, they’re not,” confirmed Peach. “But they are good fighters,” Hurricane meowed quickly. “They’ve been doing practice battles. See?” She pointed her tail to Vulture’s scratched ears. “A wound like this could have killed a weaker kit. But he survived.” “And what about this young one here?” Skull’s tail—which, I noticed with a wince, was heavily scarred and bald in a few places—touched the tip of mine gently. “She killed her sister,” Peach meowed simply. “She what?” gasped Hurricane. “She killed Ella?” squeaked Vulture. I could only stare in shock at her. I hadn’t killed Ella! Skull purred. “Did you, now? How did that happen?” “It was at night,” Peach mewed before I could say anything. “Vulture and I were asleep. Fuega and Ella got into a fight about who would get to eat the biggest rat, and I had taught them to kill if necessary. So Fuega killed her.” I looked over and saw that Hurricane looked quite…overjoyed? Relieved? What was with this she-cat? First she was getting all defensive about me, and then she was shocked when she heard that I supposedly killed another cat, and now she looked happy about it. If I was older, I might have figured out what was up, but at that moment, I was in the dark. “Well, then,” meowed Skull, and I relaxed as he moved his tail away from me. “It seems we don’t have two runts after all. Hurricane, take Peach and Fuega to their living quarters. Second dumpster will do. I’ll bring Vulture over to the bandage pile myself. The rest of you, be on the lookout for Snap—he should be bringing newcomers soon enough.” As Vulture followed Skull to a pile of rags between two dumpsters, Hurricane led us to one of the dumpsters near the back, where we would be sharing a living quarters with several other cats. She and Peach kept their eyes dead center, not even glancing at me as I trotted to keep up. “You saved my life,” I mewed gratefully, looking up at my mother. “It wasn’t for your thin pelt, scrap,” snarled Hurricane. “Skull would have skinned me alive if I had brought back two runts that were useless, and he would have swallowed you in one gulp. Next time, don’t make us have to come up with some wild story.” “She did kill her sister, though,” murmured Peach. Hurricane’s eyes widened. “She really did?” “No I didn’t!” I protested. Peach cuffed my ears with her paw. “Quiet! Now I don’t know for certain what happened that night, but I had taught you and Vulture how to make the killing bite to the neck that very same day. And you and Ella were the only ones up. She was a walking skeleton, that kit; even a runt like you could have killed her with one scratch. And even if you didn’t kill her, I don’t see how she could have survived, whatever happened.” “If you were awake, Fuega, you could surely tell us what happened, could you?” I could see a slight smirk on Hurricane’s face. Even though my mother had never taught me that way, something told me that being accused for something I didn’t do was wrong. But I realized that Ella had been my first and only friend, and even though she was gone, and there was a big possibility that she might be dead, I felt loyalty towards her. Slowly I bowed my head. “I didn’t directly kill her. I chased her into the path of the monsters. They killed her instantly.” Peach hissed in disgust. “To think my own kit could be so foolish. She was one of the fastest cats I ever knew, and she ran straight to her death. Understand this, Fuega; from now on that kit will not be mentioned as your sister or by her name at all. That’s an order. Do you understand?” I nodded my head. “Of course, Mother.” “This is where you’ll be staying.” Hurricane pointed her tail to the dumpster we were standing by. “There are six dumpsters in the alley. The farther back they are, the higher in ranking. Most newcomers stay in the lowest ranking dumpster and work their way up with following Skull and doing favors for him; they can also work their way back down by going against the rules. You’ll learn our law soon enough. First dumpster is the one for the newcomers and the rule breakers, though cats who break the rules enough get punished further. Second dumpster’s for cats who have done a minimum number of jobs for Skull to be called a real member of the group; since you’ve already been here, Peach, my father has requested that you and your kits stay in this dumpster even though you’re new to the empire. Third dumpster is where most of the cats are, who have done an average number of benefits. Fourth dumpster is where most of the pregnant she-cats—carrying Skull’s kits, of course—and guard scouts are, though the higher ranking ones such as me live in dumpster number five. And finally, Skull, his favorite she-cats, and whoever he gives the honor to be on guard duty that night stay in dumpster six.” All this new information was making my head spin, and these rules were only about where we were to sleep! But Peach just nodded her head and meowed, “We only slept in one dumpster when I stayed with him. He’s certainly outdone himself.” “He certainly has,” Hurricane agreed. Just then a dark gray tabby tom came around the corner into the alley with a grayish brown she-cat behind him. “That will be Snap with a newcomer,” murmured our guard scout guide. “You two are allowed to rest. I must see what other pathetic wimps have joined us.” “Pathetic wimps?” Peach’s echo had just a hint of a snarl. Hurricane shrugged. “I’ve said before, you’re not the worst I’ve seen. But don’t think of yourselves as the best here; don’t want to end up in the blood pile, do we?”